


Sins of our [P]arents

by Null_Element



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Cybernetics, Dorks in Love, Drug Abuse, Everyone Has Issues, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Love at First Sight, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25857562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Null_Element/pseuds/Null_Element
Summary: A man near his thirties wakes up in an unknown yet subtly familiar world where androids and machine life-forms wage a war that has lasted millennia. Soon he will find that mankind is long extinct, with androids being the only living legacy of humanity. Cohabiting with them, this last human will have to adapt and leave his cold and cynical shell behind to make some genuine bonds, for the events he will soon get dragged into can't be overcome by a lone human.Both him and his eventual companions will come to know the crudity of war, violence, bloodlust, hate... All humanity represents at its worst; on the other hand going through this ordeal together, friendship, compassion, affection and even love will arise, making for a complex set of emotions, decisions and actions which all the living are meant to face.In time, this will pose unavoidable questions. Are androids more human than us? Were we cruel parents who left their children behind to fight an endless war?Does being the last survivor of our species carry any real meaning?Or is it just an instinctual excuse to atone, in seek of relief, for the sins of our parents?
Relationships: 2B (NieR: Automata)/Reader, 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), 2B/A2 (NieR: Automata), Devola & Popola/Reader, Original Characters/Various
Comments: 19
Kudos: 48





	1. The Day I Died

**Author's Note:**

>   
> Heavy spoilers from A to E ending. Game story-line loosely followed, though a sizeable chunk will focus on events before the game; to get an idea the first story arc (current) happens roughly a year before 2B and 9S are designated companions for the first time. I will use invented ideas or descriptions if they aren't provided in canon materials. As for the story itself, you can expect parts focused on character development and how they relate to each other (most prevalen at first) and eventually more action focused parts. Everything present in tags is meant to appear; explicit sex, used of drugs and whatnot WILL be present.  
>   
> This is my first published fan-fiction. Though fluent, english is not my native language, so expect "weird" ways to describe or say things and the unavoidable grammar mistakes. I review things posted peridodically, so the work will improve with time.  
>   
> I know what is said about wish fulfillment, so to be upfront with it: I want to provide a decent piece of writing while somehow experiencing what I can’t in my daily life through this work. It is one of the great things of fiction.  
>   
> I've used a male alter ego/insert, if you are uncomfortable feel free to copy/paste this into another document and modify the MC name or sex to suit your preferences. After all this is about having a good time.  
>   
> This work could not have been a reality without inspiration from other fan-fiction stories like Nier to Death (Coolguybest9), all the works of In_a_Quandary including the FF XIII stories (Unvirtuous Treaty, Intoxication, Deterioration of the Psyche, Repossession, Coalescence Arc, Misguidance) and Nier: Returner by KaZe0100 plus its sequel. We may be strangers yet I owe these people my inspiration to start this project.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first steps of a path yet to be revealed. 
> 
> It may be dark and we still know nothing, yet maybe, out there, we could make a difference on something.  
> Someone. Us?
> 
> Get to know the protagonist, an android that cared about him and how easy it is to find a nameless tomb.

_My name... My name is irrelevant at this point. For you, by the moment it is enough to know that I was laying on something at least as comfortable as concrete with sharp rocks dispersed here and there. Opening my eyes triggered an immediate sting of pain in my head only to see a piece of ceiling made of… More concrete. To sum up, that was not where I usually woke up and I felt like someone had meticulously beaten up every single part of my body while I was unconscious, asleep or whatever I was supposed to be doing there. It also happened to be the day I would meet my end, in a rather gruesome way if I may add. But I am saying things ahead of time. Let's get back to the point._

Since laying down on my cozy patch of floor wasn’t going to ease any ache, I mentally prepared to get up and open my eyes for good. First, I sat down. Nothing special with that. My back complained but that wasn’t unreasonable given the nature of my bed.

Next, eyes. Those did hurt quite a bit, but after a few seconds I discovered that there was nothing wrong with them. I “just” had a fucking migraine of a “please end my suffering” on a ten point scale. Again, nothing new. It was going to suck hard but I didn’t intend to spend more time on my previous activity. As my aching sight got used to the dim environmental light I saw that I wasn’t in any kind of prison, dungeon, pit or some other distasteful place as I feared. The place looked like a pretty standard living room, only if said room was left to its devices for decades. Although most of the furniture (including a sofa) seemed in a decent yet dusty condition, I didn’t feel like trying any of the seats. It was safe to assume that no one but me had stepped inside in a very long time, which was good, leaving my paranoid side to speak its opinion; no marks in the dust, no signs of rocks moved on the floor... I did not recognize the place, not even remotely. That made two mysteries already: where was I, and why. Knowing my own mental workings I stopped that train of thought and tried to focus on anything external. It wouldn’t ease my nerves, but at least I wouldn’t remain sitting, making up a dozen of impossible to prove theories. Getting up a second time hit my head with what could be molten lead and a sizable amount of nausea, so half-blinded I rested my arms against the first thing I could, an armchair with an inch deep layer of dust.

Despite my lamentable state, the maneuver was a lucky movement for me, seconds after dropping my body against the dusty piece of furniture, I noticed something at my feet. Resting against the armchair I recognized my own backpack. It was impossible to mistake: a black military backpack, with a detail that distinguished it apart from any other; a small wooden plate with Japanese kanji engraved, tied to one of the zipper handles. An old gift. If my memory did not fail, it was an “omamori”, some kind of charm or protection. I didn’t share those kind of beliefs, but it was both pleasant looking and a memento from some years ago, no reason not to keep it. As for me, I was wearing familiar clothes, but instead of a mix of normal and military surplus gear, I was completely dressed as a soldier, one that uses secondhand uniform pieces. My steel reinforced military boots were both on, perfectly tied up a bit below half-way to my knees. Over them I had a pair of cargo pants with an urban pattern, tightly attached with two straps to the corresponding boot. A simple synthetic belt held the rest, which after a closer look had some kind of small metal harness with a collapsible point in each side of my hips, likely to hang something. The rest of my attire was almost identical. A black t-shirt with the logo of a band I could not get myself to decipher in that moment, the only exception to the rest. Over it, my old dark gray trench coat, another piece of outdated military gear, from the war on the Balkans in the latter half of the XX century; it had more value as a curiosity than a fashionable item, but I liked it no matter how old and worn it could be. It remained heavy, comfortable, full of pockets and incredibly durable. As I noticed, the coat had an identical belt at my waist height. Thankfully, I discovered the reason for so many places to attach items right away (I had a faint memory of the coat’s belt, the other one was unknown to me). Just a step away from my backpack, there was a leather sheath containing my own survival knife. It wasn’t fancy looking but it was made of decent high-carbon steel and I had obsessively maintained it over the years, so it was clean and perfectly able to cut through cloth, thick leather or even thin metal plates. Next to it my pocket knife seemed to ask to be recovered. That one was more a utility than a weapon, but still, ten centimeters of sharp metal were always useful for many things and I had added a small, rough, but functional guard to the handle to avoid sliding my hand towards the blade. The rest of contents were a pack of prescription drugs, meticulously ordered, a dozen totally insipid but filling nutrient paste tubes, varied rags rolled and tied up, appropriate for bandages, a flask of chlorhexidine and a metal bottle full with water. All in all it was not much weight. Also, it was clear that all the supplies had been packed or arranged by me or someone that knew my over-orderly habits. More mysteries and still not a single clue. I should start a list if I find writing material.

Looking back at the case of drugs, I took a pen charged with sumatriptan, a particular anti-migraine drug meant for emergencies-only and injected it into the left side of my neck just not to get undressed for a damn sub-dermal injection. The effect came in seconds, as did the side-effects. I felt light-headed, my heart pumped as if I had been sprinting a moment ago and a mild numbness took over my limbs, but the fucking pain was going away. I was supposed to rest after that, but already being a veteran on all kinds of secondary effects, I ignored it and kept exploring the place. Reviewing the room proved to be a waste of time. Other than my stuff, everything that remained was deteriorated to barely recognizable pieces of rust, wood or plain and simple dirt.  
  
Reasons to stay there already exhausted, I double-checked I had everything and headed for what used to be a door frame, now blocked by a pile of rubble. The dim light of the room came from there, windows covered with tightly attached wood planks. Cursing profusely, I pushed my belongings ahead of me and I crawled as fast as humanly possible, until I emerged in a devastated corridor before claustrophobia had time to mess with my mind. Many uncovered windows lined through the place, none of them unbroken. I was quite high in the building, no less than fifteen stories tall, I calculated. To the front I could see another building very similar to mine, except this one had crumbled completely on the top floors, with only the lower half remaining. Other than that, I could only see a patch of the ground, covered both with surprisingly lush looking grass and the ever-present piles of rubble.

Going down was not gonna be easy, if even possible using normal means. The way down could be blocked at any point, I did not trust the elevator cables to hold on to my meager weight at all and climbing down from the outside was out of the question. All these practical considerations didn’t distract me from the persistent thought that had been in my mind almost since I had awoken: where the hell was I? Everything felt oddly familiar, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. I was sure that I had seen a place like that before, though. But where? That thought made my mind enter a fast train of thought, with all the theories, questions and some more familiar images flashing through in a split second. Before I could make any sense of it, my brain was back to its mostly normal self. I decided not to think more than the necessary minimum for a while and start trying to get down. My first choice were the stairs. Even if they had any part missing, I could at least jump small gaps. Far from ideal, yet the option with the least risk of becoming a pile of ground meat painting my surroundings. The plan worked well for what I counted were six floors. It took me some time, moving slowly and trying to catch any weird sound. Despite my environment being the biggest threat so far, I found myself reaching for the hilt of the knife more than once. I was even getting nervous and it was not related to the miserable state of the path or myself. I was tense, about to jump and stab anything at the first notice of movement.  
  
_I would not have to wait much longer to realize that I was at the same time right and a huge idiot, but lets not get ahead of the plot._  
  
By this point I had descended around seven floors without much need for acrobatics. Sure, barely any room or corridor was without holes but most of them were traversable by taking long steps. Jumping around the place could end in so many ways which alone could deserve a list. The only hazard wasn’t falling down, almost next to it in annoyance were the steel beams poking out of walls, rubble, broken pieces of floor… My clothing had so far saved me from several scratches and the rusted metal looked very eager to pierce anyone distracted enough. Tension rose again, making my heart pump to an almost audible beat. Below me something had moved. It had not been a random noise coming from the structure of the building. Those were steps. Soft, coordinated. I wasn’t able to catch anything through the nearest opening in the ground. Crap. There were only two directions, up and downwards; and those steps went in the opposite direction to mine, so directly towards my position. There were no nearby rooms to hide in and the only escape was really unattractive; the steps approaching through the stairs decided for me. The only thing keeping me out of sight was a 90 degree turn just after the stairs. No thoughts. I just let the adrenaline take control, to directly slip into one of the biggest holes around. Once hanging above the ground below, I let my hands loose hoping at least the ground would not crumble. In that I would be lucky, but my fortune ended with that. Three things happened when my hands opened. First, one of the beams, invisible from above pierced through my right sleeve and injured my right arm in a way I could not see, but the bleeding started instantly. Second, the blow on my arm, made me lose the position I had taken to land, making me crash directly on my chest, which produced an audible and unpleasant crunchy sound. Third, the former two were followed by a monotonous voice stating:

"Several signals registered. Brief motion detected; due to its brevity this unit cannot discard it as a glitch. Second warning: thermal signal detected coming from a small quantity of liquid substance ten meters ahead. Aural data gathered: sound compatible with an unknown object of 60 to 70 kilograms of weight falling down from several meters of height detected in the same area. Suggestion: gather data from accessible substance. Avoid engaging combat until more information on its nature is collected."

"Then go and analyze those drops," softly said a female voice while it kept steadily advancing.

"Understood." Answered the monotonous voice.

At this point I was speculating about what kind of death awaited me. If my injuries didn’t kill me, the dialogue above sounded awfully like someone tracking me. I could barely breathe (such a blow to the chest must have broken several ribs, so likely I had at least one punctured lung) and the blood that at first stained only a sleeve was now a small pool growing on the floor. It came very near the shoulder joint, so the vessel had to be quite big.

"Fluid is a complex mixture of water, salts, proteins and cells. Although rapidly decreasing, it still keeps a temperature of 35Cº. Hypothesis: the compound appears to be blood, but lacks several components present in android blood, like nanomachines and carbon allotrope compounds. New hypothesis: the blood in question fits the composition of human arterial blood with 98% accuracy, the remaining 2% likely accounting from impurities like concrete dust or iron rust."

"Pod, are you messing with me?" This time the voice sounded sensibly more nervous.

"Negative. This unit has no reason to 'mess' with YoRHa Defender model 3."

A hiss was the only answer.

During the brief dialogue, I managed to roll to my right and at least see something other than the floor. I did not feel much pain, but the blood loss was starting to worry me; not even considering it made for the easiest trail to follow ever created. Even if it could alert my companions above me, I needed to at least bandage it or being found would make little difference. My right arm was paralyzed and in any case I shouldn’t move it more. Opening the right pocked of my backpack with a single hand and finding the material I wanted proved to be frustrating, noisy and slow. I did not know where the hell I was getting this time from but it could not last much more. By sheer luck a packet of zeolite powder fell from one of the lateral pockets. A first step. For the lack of a better tool I broke the lid with my teeth and poured a generous amount of the zeolite directly through the whole in the cloth. Next, I needed to soak a rag of chlorhexidine and tie it over the powder, but, alas, time was up. I felt the cold tip of something sharp in my neck, so I just stopped moving and adopted something that could be interpreted as a surrender sign from several kilometers away. Realistically my appearance was of a red soaked mess with one hand in the air and the other resting in a weird angle.

Around 1,7 meters above me, a woman clad in a peculiar black attire with white details, held a futuristic looking spear with a single hand. In my state I could not gather many details, but her white shoulder-length hair was remarkable. I was unable to see her eyes. Again, her looks felt familiar for no obvious reasons.

"State your affiliation, model number and mission. There are no scheduled operations in this sector." She wasn’t bluffing. I knew that a mistake would be met with a critical overdose of her spear. To my surprise, the other voice, the monotonous one, came from a floating rectangular device.

"Suggestion: the trail of blood follows a path compatible with the position of the unknown unit.  
Proposal: reanalyze the surrounding blood to confirm the nature of the unknown unit."

"Ok. But be fast."

"Yeah, you should, because I think I am running out of blood. The one on the floor and all…"

I was unable to even finish the phrase. My vision was darkening and an intense cold slowly took over my limbs. An indefinite period of time passed. Couldn't be much or otherwise I wouldn’t be able to open my eyes. My arm had a decent bandage wrapped around it and the woman was holding a syringe, apparently looking for where to use it. I managed to point at a vein in the middle of my right arm.

"I don’t know if this works on humans, but I have to keep you alive until the bunker can deploy someone that knows how to repair (repair?) humans." A note of excitement and fear was audible in the formerly gelid voice.

I was unable to answer. Whoever she was, carried me, backpack included, on a shoulder. Not a single grunt of effort. From my position I could smell the clothing and the skin. Something chemical from the fabric. Scent of normal skin, remarkably pale and immaculate. And not a single drop of sweat. An android, I told myself. That would explain everything, except why I knew this. My thoughts were interrupted by a burst of explosion sounds above us. Rocks started to fall left and right. My savior, captor or whoever she was, expelled a torrent of curses of which half made no sense to me. After venting, she did the most logical but not the first thing I would expect in our dire circumstances: jump through one of the windows.

In the time my brain reacted and started to panic, I got a glimpse of the floating rectangle (Pod?) being tightly held by the android on a deployable bar-like structure, somehow slowing the descent to the far less threatening speed of a feather. Everything was going surprisingly smooth given what just happened; until another salvo of explosions impacted the outer building just behind us. If someone was shooting at us there was no reason not to shoot again, something so obvious it hadn't even registered as an outcome in my skull. The blast erased whatever semblance of stability we had and we were propelled in opposite directions by the shockwave. Last thing I was able to see, was the android looking towards me arms extended. If it wasn’t for the complete lack of sense, I’d swear she was crying, her face shining with tears. Then she was substituted by dozens of rocks, which were more along the line of what I expected. No pain came. I felt something cracking in by back and a sudden numbness taking over my body. Only a split second passed before the stones took my remaining sense, erasing the world from my eyes.

Nothing else happened. I had just suffered an _exitus letalis_ with free burial. No time to even make a snarky comment to the reaper's face. I was just gone.

I told you at the beginning, that it was the day I died. Metaphorically, some would say. Yet I still think, from time to time that whoever I was remains rotting under a pile of rubble in the city ruins; and that I am myself a copy made by YoRHa in my image with some chunks of recovered flesh joined together by hi-tech materials. In any case, who cares. Let the corpse rest, after all, they gave me its job and the poor devil deserves a break. Who I am is a question that lost any significance long ago. Mine happened to be a shallow grave. Let's get to the events that followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to go already fully for the second chapter instead of using it as a last "pilot", which I am expanding way beyond the original text and will keep on it until I think the lenght is reasonable.  
>   
> For the future, unless I state it explicitly in the work's summary, this fic won't be closed until it is done.
> 
> **Generally I keep small notes regularly updated on my profile** , below the biography regarding the status of the next entry and what exactly I am working on.  
>   
> 


	2. A Shallow Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With nothing but vague notions, it is time to take the first steps into this harsh world. We all start as **fools**.  
> Is there something such as "phantom **body** syndrome"? 
> 
> Why did you even **bothered** asking if 3D was alive?  
> Was it possible for him to end a millennia-long penance just with the power of a few words? Was the **warmth** on our chest real?  
> Adapt yourself to being partly synthetic and do not retreat into the comfort of your mind. Or mine.
> 
> Above everything else, remember: nothing really comes for free **. For our sake.**

_I was dead. I was sure. I had never felt such...Nothing. Peaceful absence of everything._

Yet the dead do not feel their heart pumping. They are also incapable of brain activity, which meant I should not be able to create any semblance of thought, even less an inner monologue, inside my head. If I still had one. The most logical conclusion was: I had somehow survived. Or at least enough of me, for I couldn’t see, hear nor was capable of using any sense. I only knew my mind was working and my heart pumping at a slow but steady rate. Maybe I was only a brain in a jar with an artificial pump. The idea made me panic, or the equivalent when you are only aware of your heartbeat. I was again getting into one of my recursive trains of thought that lead nowhere. Lucky me, something else caught my attention, a female voice distorted in a weird way.

"Activity increasing in auditive cortex. Synaptic discharge density reaching nominal levels. We have reception signal and good frequency spectrum. Following the agreed procedure, I start visual functions at incremental stimulation".  
  
I could suddenly hear. All was distorted, with a tonal quality not quite normal to what I remembered. And apparently I was getting my brain activated again, which was something several leagues above the medical technology I knew. I started feeling my eyes and eyelids, some needle-like sensations at first, to finally being aware of them as I normally would.  
  
"Human, if you are able to hear me, we are finishing with the procedures needed to end connecting your central nervous system to the remaining areas. You should be able to open your eyes, but do not worry if you just see blurry colors. Briefly I’ll activate your fonatory apparatus, you should be able to speak without pain. That should allow us to communicate and ease the whole process. I know from your heart-rate and adrenaline blood levels that you are in full fight or flight mode. By the moment just know that you are safe and that despite the fatal damage you took, we’ve managed to bring you back whole. Activating your senses is one of the final steps. Now I will continue as said; you may call me 7H once you are able to speak."

7H, that “name” sounded similar to how the other android was called, 3D. Somehow YoRHa had managed to find and get me back to one piece. Wait. What did I just think? YoRHa. I know that name. And for a matter of a fact I also knew that H stood for “Healer” and D “Defender”. Again, where these insights came from was still a mystery. It seemed I wouldn’t just stay rotting away, so there was already another thing to find out on the already sizeable pile of questions.  
  
After what could haven't been more than a minute, similar to the eyes, I felt the same needle-like sensation on my throat only to fade away in seconds. I was able to speak directly, no coughs, growls or preliminary warning. Out of sheer precaution and politeness I decided to thank my immediate benefactor.

"Thanks for taking me back from the dead, 7H." My voice sounded in the same peculiar way I heard. "I bet it hasn’t been exactly easy to put me back in one piece."

"Indeed, it has been a very complex series of procedures. But we will get to that soon. Is there any way I can address you other than human? Calling you by your species name sounds… Awkward or rude maybe, if that is the word."

"The name’s Sior and worry not, no offense taken. Human is what I was last time I checked. May I ask what has happened exactly? If I am a stump with a head I’d rather know now than..."

With my hearing improving by seconds, this time I could catch a note of slight nervousness. So not everything was happy "we saved you all is gonna be fine crap". Obviously not. In a split second I visualized a good amount of alternatives, each more pathetic than the next. If I was going to need an android to help me clean my tush, first favor on the wish-list would be to add a big lead implant in my brain stem for the procedures. All life is sacred and worth living my ass. Pun _a priori_ not intended.

"Well, Sior, you got severely injured; that may even be an understatement. You were recovered in a clinically dead status, according to human criteria; almost exsanguinated, dozens of major traumatic lesions, burns… Yet somehow you weren’t completely gone. 3D had injected you with repairing nanomachines we use for structural body damage, in a desperate attempt to save you or at least patch-up the worst, but sadly they aren’t meant to work on humans. Possibly it bought you a couple minutes, maybe less. 3D called for an extraction team, which implied launching an extreme emergency distress signal to state that you were in serious risk. That kind of signal is rarely used and since machine troops were already in the area, the whole task force had to make for a retreat. Thankfully a second team was on site in case backup was required."

This surprised me even more. I thought my encounter with 3D had been likely my fault, making myself detectable due to noise, thermal residues or who knows what more androids could see with those blindfolds. Ah, nice. That explained a lot. They were some sort of augmented reality and HUD. The fact that I already knew this, because fuck it, you knew what you know, did not surprise me anymore. Better just go with the flow, I guessed. If I had a brain tumor giving me hints they would have detected it. But for the hundredth time I was going into a mental rush. I thought it was better to make a credible comment.

"That sounds like an awful lot of resources and people just to take me back. I hope you know that I am not an especially remarkable individual of my species". Not brilliant. Certainly not. 7H seemed to doubt, mumbling a bit to herself a couple times before speaking aloud.

"I... I can't judge that from a human point of view. But you are the first human to set foot on earth for twelve millennia. That alone makes you most remarkable. We have never met any of our creators. For all of us is... Well...".  
  
She hesitated more and finally decided to leave the subject. Noted, my species was a big deal. And I had skipped 12.000 years of history without trying. I tried to think of it with some snark or I might have lost it. Something told me I was going to need a sense of humor to not go completely nuts. And likely some pills. In family-size packs. 7H broke the density of the silence going on with the story where she left before I made my comment.

"To sum-up, within a margin of seconds, one team recovered your remains and put them in a stasis pod. With a spark of life in your body and your metabolism suspended we had a bit more time. The second team was able to cover them and keep enemy artillery suppressed until your extraction completed. After, we had to think of how to proceed, which was as difficult as recovering you. Protocols do exist to treat humans, but they have never been used as far as I know. Even downloading the medical treatment data on humans to our memory storage, you were critical and we lacked any experience. We could not use the same techniques as with androids, so after debating it for a while, we came to the conclusion that we would substitute the worst damaged body areas with custom made prosthetic parts and repair the rest for later modification, using nanomachines mostly. Even with a plan, it was all experimental, untested. Yet it had to be tried, it was simply impossible to think of letting you die...".

Again that peculiar emotional effect in an android. If my now functional eyes weren’t tricking me, 7H was nervously walking back and forth between different pieces of machinery, something that had started as she explained the circumstances of my rescue and had now intensified. These people didn’t even know of my existence, hum, not much ago (I wondered how much time had passed, for all I knew could have been days) yet had raced to save me putting their lives on the line as if their own were the ones at risk. And the emotional effect of my presence bordered the absurd. There was something that I didn't buy, though. Those protocols for human treatment. I could believe they did their best to save me. But YoRHa could not have but the most basic data about human anatomy and physiology. Not only was it born too late, they simply wouldn't develop something with an almost non-existent odds of being used. They are too pragmatic. Though it was true they could not have done any intervention blindly. The knowledge had to come from another source. I had my own theories, but I'd rather find out myself than start posing suspicious questions just after waking up.

"Right now" 7H continued interrupting my thoughts "you are floating in a sterile nanomachine-rich solution within a field hospital the resistance has allowed us to build and you will have to stay submerged in it for at least 12 hours more. This will allow all the modifications and prosthetics to finish assembling themselves and synchronizing with the neuromesh, a complex system of both organic and synthetic fibers webbed inside your new spine. After that, your brain should already recognize all as normal and be calibrated for basic functioning."

"How much? Tell me, how much of my original body I have." I had to ask it and I had already done my share of talking. This time 7H sounded almost intimidated. Shit, I was not scary. Maybe I was not easy on the eyes after the incident, but those reactions were starting to confuse and irritate me slightly.

"Forgive me, I am not… Well, rounding up, 52% if we count the modified original parts, if you just count untouched tissue, the number decreases below 10%, but it is almost impossible to get an accurate estimation. You completely lost the left arm, right leg and several other substantial diffuse tissue amounts . I am sorry you have to hear this but..." Her voice sounded more and more stressed as she kept adding injuries, almost as if they were her fault. So I ignored for a moment the thousand questions I had and tried to grant that there was no problem on my part. Hell, I died. I was surprised they didn’t have to use a vacuum cleaner to get any remains. Whatever they had done and how much I was now made of metal alloys and who knows which more exotic materials, it was a fucking piece of art. I couldn’t help but notice that my gen… My damn dick, balls and ass were perfectly preserved or reconstructed. And I was afraid of being a ball of neurons in a dank looking jar minutes ago.

"It is fine. I doubt many people could have kept me alive, let alone rebuild me even if I’ve needed some metal to fill gaps. You have my gratitude, but only if I do not look hideous once outside."

I heard a chuckle, but still full of anxiety.

"Part of your body, in particular your lost limbs, have installed the bare-bone components for now. Do not worry, when all is done, you should look almost as if nothing happened. Now I will induce you to sleep. By the time you wake up, you should have everything properly installed and calibrated. Due to the circumstances, keeping this secret has been impossible and both the resistance and YoRHa are excited to say the least. I suggest you anticipate to answer a lot of questions. Especially because the commander herself wants to speak with you, which is never a short or easy talk."

Even if I couldn’t understand all the implications of what 7H just said, again all the fuzz looked absurd, I could not ignore that more time than all of recorded human history in my era had passed. And I was also alone in that regard. The only survivor of the ironically called _Homo Sapiens Sapiens_. Androids were unable to reproduce, neither between them nor with humans, despite being almost impossible to distinguish from a human. Hell, they even had external working genitalia.

This inner rant made me think of something that had only struck me in that moment. It wasn't the knowledge I had that surprised me now, but the lack of it about my previous life. I did remember most of it, yet I had clear holes in it. I knew my age, my name, my hobbies... On the other side, I had no idea of my job. If I had any family in that long gone past. That if this was the future of my world. Where was I from? I was able to think fluently in English, Spanish and French. Some Latin even. What language I did speak with the two androids I had met? I also knew that I was no soldier, but I knew at least self-defense and handling at the very least most handguns. Even using melee weapons, the rapier and the two handed sword. Such a peculiar mix. Maybe I was in the military reserve... Or I could have learned each of those separately. My name had come automatically from my mouth yet I had mixed feelings about it. I did not have a complete identity. But I also had to admit that it wasn't that important given the circumstances.

From there my consciousness drifted, more diffuse each minute. I thought that maybe my actions would give me a new self. Or I could keep forgetting until becoming a blank slate without any past. Eventually the words became a surreal mix of increasingly nonsensical gibberish, which I recognized as the beginning of induced sleep.

* * *

_  
Back then, it was normal not to realize it. But even as it became more and more obvious I ignored it until confronting the truth became unavoidable. That nothing comes for free. I do not even mean my new body, but I paid for it in a way, too. The borderline adoration androids treated me with was genuine, but I don't think the idea of free computes for YoRHa. Hell, White would have been as genius as a businesswoman and even better politician. Anemone was less of a control freak, but wasn't particularly charitable either. I haven't done more errands in my life._ _I_ _n any case, I imagine you are more interested about when I finally woke up and thus far I have only told you about one of the most boring parts, sleeping in some kind of culture tank wasn’t particularly eventful either._

I came back to the waking world with a sudden gasp and the sensation that I was choking. I could breathe, but already used to feel the tank’s fluid going through my respiratory system, air felt raspy and harsh. I made the effort to keep a steady breathing pace. Slowly I adjusted to the lack of liquid, which could only mean the stated period was already complete. Seemingly on its own, the crystal that separated me from the outside slid upwards, leaving me free to exit. My first two steps were clumsy and felt oddly heavy, but I felt the metallic ground, its cold and smoothness. What I did not notice and was way more obvious, was the presence of 7H and three other androids just ten meters ahead of my naked and drunken-like walking self. I needed the input of a hand on my shoulder to realize that, making me take a fast step back and putting my arms in a defensive stance. Yes, all that before I thought of actually looking to the front.

“I see your recovery is not only complete, but you have already adapted to your prosthetics”. The voice was way more cheerful and natural sounding than 7H’s anxiously fast answers. Its source was an android with red, wavy hair and fiercely jade green eyes. She also was smiling slightly above me, unlike 3D and 7H, which despite their heeled footwear were still shorter than myself. Her presence reminded me of the above-mentioned lack of clothing, which made me cover my crotch with a bit of a fake sense of decorum. I did not feel especially uncomfortable but social rules can make you do shit by sheer automatism.

Seemingly not bothered, Devola (there goes another) pointed towards a table just to my side.

"They should fit you. We'll get you more adequate clothing later, but at least this will cover you." Even in my state, the warmth of the voice was soothing. Almost as if she really cared.

I immediately stepped into a pair of boxers and some kind of hospital pajama, all black. They had a certain chemical smell that immediately reminded me of 3D. Out of nowhere my voice asked before even turning back:

"Is 3D okay?"

Devola answered me in a tone that made me think she found the sudden question cute and naive.

"She took several nasty wounds, but nothing lethal. Should be as new in no time, though..."

So soon. Something not to say. I could believe she was okay, after all if I was alive myself, a D model surviving was no biggie. But I expected for half-truths to start a bit later. And not from Devola, who I instinctively felt was trustworthy. I chose not to say anything and fill in the next item on the checklist.

"Devola, Popola, thanks for taking me back. I know no one else could know how to heal a human. That is how you got the data, 7H?"

Saying she was struck would be an understatement. Still, she had been in the surgical theater with the weak spark of my life about to fade.

"Does not matter. You've also done your share. But I'd appreciate not to erase Devola and Popola from the merit list. Actually, since no one can do it, I'll tell you something that may be of some help. Popola, you and your sister approach me."

More shy, but clearly curious, the twin with the straight hair approached me. With a hand on the shoulder of each, I quietly spoke. Why I said what I said is still difficult to understand for me, years later. But I knew of their past. The millennia of scorn, solitude, alienation. The utterly sadistic punishment of having their code changed to feel guilty until the day they died. It made me furious, sad. I wanted to tear apart whoever had been the source of such unnecessary suffering. This lasted no more than seconds, yet it felt like I had watched all the above in painful detail, as a vision of my own reaction and their lives. At that point I did not know, but I had broken an old chain. I stopped questioning all mysteries and insights of this new world. For once, I acted.

Just think I was not in that weird black pajama and it would have even been worth recording for the future.

"I am maybe not the most adequate one. But there is no one else to do this. Listen with care". I cleared my throat.

"All is forgiven. Any mistake, sin, guilt that you may have committed in the past or any of your sisters is gone. As the only known human, I lift your guilt and declare that you owe nothing to mankind. Your penance is over, forever and ever. The only command I give you is to atone by living how you wish. This is my will and I hope it will be yours, too. Leave your deathwish behind and never put yourselves in danger out of guilt."

I noticed that my robe was wet with tears. My priestly absolution came naturally, as something I knew I had to fulfill regardless of how I felt. A task. My words would not lift the weight of those twelve thousand years, but it was a beginning. Likely a good way to start making allies, too. I stood holding them until the quiet sobs faded, both of them turning to the monitors around. I did not have much more to say to 7H. But the figure waiting in the dim light certainly would want to ask some questions. The clothing was unmistakable, even in the chaos of scavenged garbs of the Resistance. Anemone. Their leader, diplomat and one of the few real links between the amiable yet tense alliance of YoRHa and Resistance. She was already alive and fighting on the day of the second Pearl Harbor descent and who knows how much more. There was no gesture needed. My motor difficulties almost gone, I walked forward. As soon as I approached the expected words came.

"You and I have to speak. Commander White will assist using the comms satellite link to participate in real time."

I nodded. That was an opportunity to gather vital data, but I could not help to feel some vitriolic taste in my mouth. Nothing comes free. Which meant I was gonna have a job. Very likely not paperwork.

“I suppose there is no reason to wait more” I said back in a colder tone. Just before stepping through the door, I turned back looking at the twins.

“See you later. Remember what I said”. I smiled with a small spark of real warmth, only to extinguish it as soon as I followed Anemone outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine that style probably will be inconsistent, something I intend to adress as this keeps growing.
> 
> As of now I am in the middle of moving and changing workplace. This does not mean I will slow down or stop, though my next entry will be the MC's notebook with four entries (they have substance, not just brief descriptions). Once that is done will go for the next chapter and will just notify in pre-text notes the additions.
> 
> Finally, expect anything already published to be reviewed or even get some new lines.
> 
> Thanks everyone for your time and words!


	3. Welcome Home 1 -  (The Bond of Trust)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another few steps into the flow of history.  
> A body. Some food. Laughter. Politics under other, distant tables.  
>   
> Sincere forgival, turned into **impossibly honest trust, then affection** ; something never to be undervalued.  
> Yet who can forget her? We know she is **real**. The attraction. The smell. All too real.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An incredibly late chapter and not even very long. To my defence, I've gone through a city and job change plus many other events.  
> As I said, the fic is never abandoned unless I state it clearly. Thanks everyone for your time and comments.

I had imagined Lambda Base somewhat more alive and not as dark, always under an immovable sun, as it used to be. Now, a harsh wind whistled below a black sky of dense clouds. There wasn’t anyone else in sight. I imagined this was either weather related or maybe it was break-time; in spite of this, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off. Anemone had swiftly led me towards one of the tallest half-repaired buildings around. A rusty sign beside a worn, yet sturdy steel door clearly stated "Comms." The inside was dim, but visible. I followed the lead; five flights of stairs upwards, until we entered some kind of private office, with only a big screen on a wall, a square table and two chairs. Absolutely nothing beyond the bare minimum; way more YoRHa than Resistance. Anemone still hadn't said a word. She took both chairs and moved them so that they stood facing each other, just two meters apart. She sat and gestured for me to do the same. I looked into her eyes, only to find a contradictory maelstrom of different emotions. Since I couldn't read my companion, I tried to at least land the first phrase. I wasn't liking how things were developing at all. I was really grateful for everything so far, but being used as a political token barely after being able to walk again made me think about how expensive a new body could be. And if I would be able to pay the price.  
  
"So, how's the bartering going? What amount of me is YoRHa gonna own and how much will the Resistance get? Is White winning or did you manage to convince her?"  
  
She chuckled.  
  
"So far, you are more valuable in one piece. I didn't ask Devola and Popola to work on you for nearly twenty-hours just to butcher you again. Actually, I'd prefer it if you stay so. In my opinion, you should still be monitored and resting. But White can't wait, as usual."  
  
Made some sense. Anemone was a harsh woman; she would probably make me work to the point of exhaustion as soon as I recovered, but the danger she posed was usually way more predictable and benign than anything White could plan. Maybe I was being too fast in judging them like this, but that didn't imply I thought they were bad people. Just that individuals in their position have to make the most of what they have. And I suppose neither want their people on the losing side.  
  
"Any idea of what the commander wants from me?"  
  
The resistance leader negates without words. White must be about to connect. Seconds later, the screen illuminates, displaying the YoRHa logo for half a minute or so. Finally, this is substituted by White's aristocratic face, which could perfectly be sculpted in marble. No big fuss, just her in her own room, without the army of formalities, salutations and other nonsense.  
  
"Good afternoon Anemone. And it is a pleasure to finally meet you..."  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Just call me Sior. And same to you, commander. I hope everything is alright up there."  
  
"Things couldn't be better. Morale has skyrocketed since the news of your recovery."  
  
I could believe that. Still, this was the kind of small talk I wanted to avoid.  
  
"With all due respect, commander, I imagine there are many questions to be posed. I suggest we get directly to the point; if possible, starting with the most complicated part."  
  
White seemed a bit surprised, but not at all bothered by my statement. She looked at Anemone, who replied:  
  
"No problem on my part. I can live without all the peripheral chit-chat. I have a list of tasks longer than I can afford, and after all, Sior can be briefed on specifics ' _in situ_ '."  
  
"Then let's get into the matter at hand. First, I have some questions for Sior. I already assume some may be impossible to answer, but still, I'd like you to tell me what you know with as much detail as possible. Starting with: how did you appear out of nowhere in the city ruins?"  
  
That was a good one. I fucking wish I knew.  
  
"I'm sorry to disappoint so soon, but I have no idea. I remember falling asleep at home and then waking up, already in the ruins."  
  
It was obvious White didn't expect much from me on this front.  
  
"Anything on your location before the ruins?"  
  
"I have trouble remembering anything specific from the past. I know my age, my name, my skills, but not where I lived or what job I had. The clothes and gear I had were mine, that's for sure. And I also clearly recall that the year was 2020, not the one I've been told. I have a general idea of the current events and the past, which would be impossible if it wasn't for the fact that, so far, everything I know matches this reality."  
  
White and Anemone listened without losing a word. I said "general idea" as a precaution. Anemone could have doubted this, given my display with the twins, but that was a very circumstantial clue.  
  
White continued with a question I expected.  
  
"Do I take it that in 2020, something known as the 'White Chlorination Syndrome' hasn't happened?"  
  
"Right. No WCS. That incident never occurred in my world. Therefore, neither did the creation of project Gestalt, nor other events surrounding the issue. As for the alien invasion or the machine wars, I have no idea if they would have ended up happening or were absent as well. If this clarifies anything for you, I don't remember living on the moon at all, or any so-called council of humanity."  
  
I knew I had touched a nerve. White didn't let it show, but I knew that was bothering her.  
  
"For now, I would appreciate you not mentioning anything about the council. If questions arise, stick to your amnesia until we figure out the specifics of your circumstances. Nothing could do more damage than misinformation."  
  
Trying to hide the vitriol in my words, I simply answered:  
  
"Of course. Better off not jumping to conclusions."  
  
White nodded, but I couldn't tell if my answer had been enough. Nevertheless, she spoke again:  
  
"I know you've gone through a lot in very little time. So take it slowly, heal and get used to your modifications. Anemone will ensure that you are properly taken care of, which is the first priority of both YoRHa and the Resistance. As a human, nothing is more important than you at the moment. When you are completely well, you'll go through some basic training so that you can at least defend yourself. You will also be provided with the rest of your gear, which should complete your implants with some new functionalities. After that, there will be some tasks I'd like for you to consider. Anemone will inform you about those at the appropriate time. Finally, I would like to ask one more question."  
  
Oh, nice. Work, no surprises. My importance due to the scarcity of humans was understandable, though it also felt extremely overwhelming...but, hey, last question; that was really good news.  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
White hesitated for a moment.  
  
"Does the term 'Terminus Agent' mean anything to you"?  
  
Now I was really confused. No idea, zero. My expression made it clear.  
  
"I see you don't. You've probably wondered why there was already a task force looking for you. Hours before, we received a message from the mainframe on the moon, with the highest level of encryption and clearance required. It only contained three things. Coordinates, a time, and the 'Terminus Agent' phrase. Of course, you appeared exactly where and when expected, which is a good part of the reason why I believe you when you say this isn't your original time. There are no precedents for this and no more explanations have been provided. Just before your appearance, a huge energy surge was detected around your location; origin, again, unknown. Hence the large machine force gathered around."  
  
I was going to answer but an intense, sharp pain in my chest interrupted me. It felt like having a red-hot drill puncturing me from side to side. Even worse, it extended, as if the drill could replicate itself to cover entire areas of my body. The intensity was maddening. Not even on the verge of death has anything felt so maliciously insufferable. After a few seconds, all of my nerves were burning from within, and I couldn't do anything but scream, until what felt like my lungs had collapsed inside my rib-cage. I laid on the ground, unable to move anymore, my limbs twitching randomly. At least the pain distracted me from how damnably helpless I must have looked. I heard several voices, but they were far—too far. I was gone just after I saw the twins rushing towards me. The mercy of unconsciousness soon took over.  
  
This time I woke up in a regular bed. Simple, yet clean and comfortable. The pain was gone, with only a mild numbness remaining around my joints. I was wearing no more than a pair of boxers, which revealed how different I looked. Most of my skin had lost what little color it had; now appearing more similar to something dead than live flesh. Many scars crossed my torso, plus the most obvious change: the replacement of my lost limbs. Without any casings, they looked like an almost perfect replica of their skeleton, but made of a metallic material that felt smooth and warm to the touch. A myriad of small sockets, cables and other components ran across, neatly bundled by what appeared to be artificial blood vessels, which pulsated in perfect rhythm. That was it. A new body. No way around that, nothing to do about it. Maybe I was sedated, but the ease to accept such a radical fact surprised me. But it worked. Maybe I looked uglier than ever. No idea, but it would. carry me around.  
  
Lost as I was in this train of thought, I didn't realize that the twins had approached me with feline silence. They were looking at me, reluctant to interrupt my thoughts. It only took me some seconds to catch a glimpse of crimson hair to bring me out of my head.  
  
I decided to speak first to erase any hesitation they could have had.  
  
"Hey, Devola, Popola. It's nice to see you two right after waking up. I suppose I must've given you a crapload of work."  
  
I sounded way more defeated than I wanted to.  
  
They looked at each other, as if they were speaking through eye contact. Despite Devola's usual cheerful demeanor, she was obviously worried, as she started to explain.  
  
"It wasn't your fault. What you suffered was something that isn't uncommon in androids; especially here, in the Resistance. When you use a body part which isn't of the exact same model, your brain can detect it and react as if that new part is a threat. The more components implied, the stronger the reaction, which in your case is almost the whole body."  
  
Popola took over with her more melancholic tone.  
  
"We knew it could happen, but both command and Anemone have been discussing bitterly since your recovery. They barely listened to our warning. Even 7H presented a formal complaint in this regard. Such an extreme reaction could have killed or disable you permanently. We don't know how things could have ended, but your body is really stubborn to survive. At least they've given you an indefinite period to adjust now."  
  
Trying to sound as neutral as possible, I asked:  
  
"So, should I expect this to happen again?"  
  
Devola spoke, in a particularly warm tone, trying to dispel my fears.  
  
"It is possible. Even likely. But it should slowly improve until it goes away. After every crisis, the neuroweave will again adjust to the parameters of your new components to better suit your physiology. After a while, it should be perfectly tuned. In any case, we are gonna be keeping a close eye on you until all is well. We won't let you suffer if it can be avoided."  
  
I looked into their eyes, wanting to say something that wouldn't come. I don't know how long I stared into their mesmerizing green orbs, but I was feeling weak. Soon, I found myself laying down again and, in no time, sleep took over. This time I recognized the soothing warmth of morphine spreading through my body.  
  
Someone was holding my hand and stroking my hair. Like a child, with all fears vanishing for a moment, I let myself fall into the narcotic bliss until the sensation of timelessness left my mind floating, and my face with an incredibly stupid smile of satisfaction.  
  
I woke up at an indefinite time. It was still absurdly dark and the lights inside were off. Devola and Popola were also gone. Yet I was not alone. On the bed to my right, an android was breathing heavily, either in pain or fear. I sat looking towards her. She was clearly YoRHa, with her hair styled in a silky white bob. She was looking upwards, to the ceiling, her grayish-blue eyes fully open in horror. She briefly looked at me, her adorable features contorted with an indescribable anguish. She pointed forward while getting out of bed and grabbing my left arm.  
  
"What the..." The words didn't leave my mouth. I was mute with shock. What had been more space for beds and some cabinets, was now devoid of furniture. A dozen chains hung from the ceiling, not unlike the ones in a slaughterhouse. Hooked to them were androids in different stages of disrepair, from those completely devoid of skin to some only mildly scratched. All of them looked towards us with glowing red eyes—unable to move, yet clearly hostile. I tried to move, but something viscous on the floor almost made me trip, the YoRHa android saving me from a really stupid fall.  
  
"It's...their blood..."  
  
Even in the dark, I could see a puddle of thick red liquid rising, which reeked of iron. I tried to move again, but to no avail. My companion turned towards me. I realized she was completely naked, and so was I. As if it was the most normal act in that moment, she embraced me. I noticed the relevant curves pressing against me—including oddly hard nipples—as if there was anything erotic to the situation. After some seconds of this strange sensual scene, she whispered to me:  
  
"It is not over. We have so much blood to spill, you and I. We'll meet soon. And we will get to know each other like only fellow murderers can. Until then, goodbye, Sior."  
  
With these final words, she kissed me passionately; momentarily overridden by instinct, I couldn't help but reciprocate, holding her small frame by the waist. Yet as soon as our tongues met, the metallic smell became a taste. Our bodies covered in a dense red fluid seemingly coming from every direction, desire became nausea as sudden as it had arisen in the first place. We separated, holding each other’s hand. Blood also started to ooze from our joined hands. Her voice, now distant, muttered some last words:  
  
"I hope they will forgive us. At least we'll have someone to share our burden..."  
  
I woke up gasping for air. I was in the clinic where I had fallen asleep. No corpses, blood or anyone else around for that matter. Yet the bed to my right was undone, as if someone had slept badly, restlessly moving all night on top of it.  
  
After that dream, I was in the mood to do anything other than remaining in bed. I looked around for any clothes, until I discovered a neatly folded pile on my nightstand. It was an assortment of the usual Resistance ragtag attires, which was perfect in my opinion. I got myself into a set of black cargo pants, a plain t-shirt and a sturdy cloth trenchcoat. I noticed it had a small Resistance logo on one arm and YoRHa's on the other.  
  
It seemed to have been recently repaired and modified, both symbols were freshly sewn on and the coat itself was lengthened. Likely another favor from Devola and Popola. I guess they wanted me to appear neutral, yet still recognizable as an ally. Speaking of which, I heard steps coming down the corridor preceding the dormitory, soon to reveal both 7H and the twins, with Popola carrying a small white tray covered by a lid. The three of them looked a bit surprised; 7H concerned, Devola smirking, and Popola making no reaction whatsoever.  
  
Devola, with the smile of a satisfied cat, remarked to 7H: "See? Told you he was gonna be fine."  
  
Irritated, 7H retorted: "If by fine you mean screaming in agony all night then, sure, he's fine."  
  
Now it was my turn to be confused...  
  
"I've been, umm...'screaming in agony,' for how long?"  
  
Before Devola could articulate a single word, 7H replied to me as if I had actually been the subject of some insane and painful experiment during the night.  
  
"Of the twelve hours you've slept, every second you haven't been sedated."  
  
"Well, coincidentally I've had quite the nightmare, but I can't recall screaming, nor being in any pain."  
  
Dead serious, 7H continued, trying to extract any information possible from me. If it wasn't already obvious, I was in no mood to make a script of my dream while again reassuring her that no, I had not been in excruciating pain.  
  
"What exactly did you dream of?" Popola, to everyone's surprise, chuckled.  
  
"Nothing really out of the ordinary. I was naked in bed, getting cuddly with a very cute battle model and another ginger android. All was quite nice, until the commander appeared swinging her baton and threatening to dismantle us, while trying to beat my ass with that goddamn stick."  
  
Now everyone except 7H was containing laughter. I decided that easing her professional worries wouldn't do any harm.  
  
"Humans don't recall most of their dreams, 7H, and what we usually remember is either something nonsensical or intimate. If it's useful for you, I can vaguely remember some corpses of androids around me; nothing else. It was very brief, but possibly disturbing enough to make me scream. After all, I've just gone through a complete life change overnight; my brain will probably be quite jumpy for a time."  
  
Seemingly satisfied, the internal buildup of 7H's pressure appeared to be returning to normal levels. She nodded, mumbled a brief "thank you" and left hastily without looking back, her ponytail following shortly after her.  
  
"Ginger android, huh?" Popola asked, apparently to the air, and again containing laughter. That girl was definitely a case. Not like I was much better.  
  
"Onto more mundane matters, thanks for the clothes. They feel perfect."  
  
Devola smiled with her eyes, while continuing to the next issue.  
  
"There's the matter of your nutrition. Even with your changes, your organism is still gonna need to eat in order to work optimally. Since the actual ingredients of 'human food' are difficult to get, we've tried to synthetize some kind of all-in-one edible cookie. Not that they taste much like actual cookies, but well, it's the closest shape."  
  
Popola offered me the tray. Carefully—using my still skeletal hand—I removed the lid, in fear of crushing the whole thing. I didn't know how strong I was, but I doubted they had made the prosthetics to reflect the same meager strength of my original body. Inside the tray, a metal bowl contained some plain-looking cookies, as described. I took one, which was surprisingly heavy. The first bite was completely devoid of flavor. The second left a wheat-like aftertaste. And that was it. For something made in a lab, instead of being traditionally baked, they were all right. And filling, like a bag of bricks. Without noticing, I had almost emptied the whole bowl. Both Devola and Popola looked quite satisfied.  
  
"For not technically being food, I doubt you could have done much better. If these are the easiest for you, I can settle for them until finding an alternative."  
  
Obviously pleased, Popola said:  
  
"With the formula complete, it's just a matter of pushing a couple buttons. As for the materials, you perfectly know that little else other than carbon, water and nitrogen contain nearly everything needed, nutritionally speaking."  
  
After that, she took the tray and its few leftovers, which disappeared once she placed them on a metal table nearby. In the meantime, I got myself into a pair of high boots, reinforced here and there with metal rivets. I suddenly felt excited, the somber interview a bit more distant and my mind awake.  
  
"7H told me that my implants still needed some components and their outer-casings,

I suppose you two have more information."  
  
Devola seemed almost too excited. Maybe the prospect of working on something more unusual than maintenance had her in a good mood.  
  
"Actually, that should be our next stop. Getting your remaining gear and then showing you how to use it. For once, it should be fun."  
  
I followed the pair to the exterior, which today was radiant and overflowing with activity. This is how I actually remembered Lamda, as if the rest had all been a bad dream. Followed only by some hostile looks towards the twins—which I returned directly to sender—we went to the storage zone. Apart from organizing the supplies coming into camp, the place was a bountiful business to get items that neither YoRHa, nor the Resistance would like to see in any android's hands. Booze, e-drugs, a surprising amount of books about sex , and many, many parts and chips of whose nature was mostly unknown to me. As soon as the android in charge saw the fiery hair surrounding me, he waved and retrieved a small crate from atop a bigger pile. He smiled and spoke to me once we were within range.  
  
"I don't know much about prosthetics, but I do know about materials, and YoRHa has equipped you with the premium set. Everything I have here is made of top-tier alloys, and I think I've seen superconductors here and there. Perks of being human, I suppose."  
  
"I guess they treat me well, but the human thing also entails being weaker than anything else on the planet which moves on two legs. Proof right here," pointing to my new limbs, "the originals lasted barely an hour."  
  
The guy chuckled and gave Popola the crate. Before departing he told us:  
  
"Remember that we do monthly deliveries—almost anything if you have the cash. Tell the human how we work."  
  
Devola sighed. I shrugged and told her: "Eh, I know what their business is. But the truth is, I will likely need some drugs to help me adjust and deal with stuff. As soon as I have cash, that is."  
  
Devola answered, actually cheerful in tone: "I wasn't really in a bad mood. Even Popola and I make use of deliveries almost every month, like anyone else in camp. We do have a soft-spot for alcohol. It's that the manager feels the need to always remind people to spread the word, even if he just said so to the ones in front of him. We should get one of the free workshops past storage. This shouldn't require tools, but it'll be more comfortable to have a place to put the big stuff."  
  
Finding a suitable place took barely a minute. The Resistance base was littered with all kinds of semi-abandoned or rarely used workshops, storage areas and similar spaces. I sat in an old faux-leather chair, back again to just boxers. The first part was actually quite simple. Over the exposed prosthetics, a series of smooth and perfectly-sized plates covered the whole surface of my left arm and right leg. This alone already made the artificial limbs look far better. Even if they were obviously metal-made and dark gray, at least they no longer looked like skeletons fused with a ton of electronic components. The twins double-checked that everything was adjusted to perfection, essentially making an hermetic casing. Honestly, I quite enjoyed having both redheads touching me everywhere and I couldn't tell for sure, but at least Devola seemed to take more time than necessary grabbing flesh and metal, almost caressing me with the movement of her hands. I didn't have the tiniest problem with her being an android. Regarding their difference with humans was a matter of composition and little else to me. In any case, I've rambled on about my wet daydreaming enough. It was clear I was healthy because my libido seemed to be off the charts. Popola, on the other hand, was more difficult to read, revealing only a cryptic half-smile.  
  
"Now we have to insert the vials with nanomachines into the sockets which you can see surrounding the plating. Most of them will grow skin, but some of the others will be the ones to provide you with a few extra functions. Actually, some need to be injected directly into your organic tissue," Devola said, while taking out a small and sturdy-looking container full of neatly ordered tagged vials. The second step was way more unpleasant—especially the injections. It was probably self-induced, but I could feel the nanomachines working underneath my skin, as a vibration resonating inwards, all the way inside to the bones and inner organs. Hours passed slowly; between mechanical, electronic and software work, with the unavoidable breaks for eating and drinking, some relaxed talk and still some ambiguous innuendos. It was mid-afternoon when Popola announced it was done, only to then playfully bite my ear. A bit confused after so much time in a closed room configuring my new body, I was feeling slow and I didn't react. In fact, I was feeling sleepy, if anything; a fact I voiced just in case.  
  
"Don't worry. Your brain is adapting to a whole new way of processing everything you do. Being sleepy, hungry, dizzy or anything of the like is completely normal. I suggest you take a nap and let your implants get used to their host."  
  
The idea was attractive. I yawned.  
  
"I think I'll follow your advice...Thanks for everything, as usual..."  
  
For once, I was just falling asleep and not unconscious. The distorted silhouettes of the twins took me to another spartan apartment of the many around and they carefully placed me on a bed slightly bigger than mine. Then, to my surprise, both climbed inside after removing their boots, with Devola placing her arm over my chest and Popola simply curling up on the other side. Their combined weight was more than enough to pin me there and their warmth was soothing. So much so that I fell asleep before the last green eye closed. It would be one of the first times of peaceful sleep for me, without any lingering fear. It wouldn't be one of many others, either.  
  
Several hours later, I woke up still sleepy and confused time-wise. The twins were both fast asleep; no surprise, if I was tired, they had to be on the verge of fainting. I tried to discreetly move my free arm, but Popola made a cat-like stretch, got hold of it, and went back to sleep after briefly looking and blinking her now sedated, yet still fiercely green eyes at me. To make the message clear, she then entangled her leg with mine. Almost as part of some preconceived plan, Devola now held me with both arms instead of just the one.  
  
_You don't know what they've endured. At all. Likely, you wouldn't be able to understand. I think the least you can give them is some of your time and whatever remaining affection you have left._  
  
With my conscience sermoning me, I stood half-asleep, just enjoying the contact while time passed without measure. That is, until someone committed two mistakes: waking the twins with their noise, and the reaction on their face once they saw the scene was self-explanatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still slow chapter. Things will start to get a bit more of pace not long from now. 
> 
> Though knowing me I can't avoid day to day scenes, as in the end characters are not made just in the climatic moments of a story.


	4. Welcome Home 2 - (The Bond of Flesh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From **trust and affection** another bond may be created, born from the **flesh**.  
> Hold now the joy of banishing loneliness, the joy of shared **love**.  
> With no past, who can blame needing **a reason** to come back alive? **Back home**.  
> Be careful though, for now you **cherish** something and that alone could **ruin** you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mainly deepens the relationship between Devola, Popola and Sior. I wanted to establish early on how important their relationship is; mainly due to its effects on the future events and their phychological well-being, on which such events (in part), depend.  
>   
> Warning: smut, fluff, angst (in particular among the general tags).

For how deeply asleep they both seemed, Devola and Popola reacted to the intrusion so damn fast that at first, I only had the time to look around—confused by the unfamiliar environment and the sudden noise, accompanied by increasingly loud voices. I got out of bed to once again realize I was back in boxers; my clothes had the habit of vanishing overnight, it seemed. With an ease that surprised me, I walked to the apartment's entrance, guided by the noise. Appearing more like a moving red color storm, the twins were trying to kick out a small male android. The blindfold, clothing and white hair immediately gave away that he was YoRHa. He seemed unable to react; as if being confronted by two angry androids was the last thing he'd expect when entering a living space without knocking. When he saw me, even with the blindfold, his reaction was obviously one of an almost uncontrollable excitement. To his disappointment, Popola took advantage of his momentary doubt to grab him by the legs and drag him away like a sack of potatoes, ignoring any complaints along the way. Devola, now aware of my presence, simply shrugged.

"Damn scanners, they just can't keep their noses out of other peoples' business, even if we tie them down. Rest assured, we won't let anyone sniff around here until we've fixed your health issues, even if it's just out of curiosity. You never know with YoRHa, after all."

I found Devola's protectiveness half-amusing and half-heartwarming. Even if painless, I felt like my brain was constantly working over its ability to process all of the random changes in how my movements and sensitivity felt. The last thing I wanted was to be subjected to another tedious round of answering questions, especially from a hyperactive scanner. Besides, the fact that I was on recovery didn't mean I was going to be free from surveillance. I was damn sure they would manage to watch over me.

"Are you okay?" Devola brought me out of my head.

"Yeah, I was just a bit surprised by the quarrel with the scanner, nothing else. I was also wondering where my clothes are. After falling asleep in the workshop, my memories are a blur."

"Ah, those. They're piled in the storage room near the bed. You kept falling asleep, even after we tried to put you on two feet, so we dragged you here instead. Also, you looked like you needed some company; you get these puppy-eyes whenever you let your guard down, and it's impossible to leave you alone. Plus, it's not like many people are willing to spend time with us, so we decided to stay. I hope we didn't bother you. It's... nice to spend time with someone who doesn't treat us with this ridiculous fear that we're about to go berserk at any moment."

She smiled with a hint of sadness in her eyes. Dammit! I couldn't deal with it. Knowing the mountain of crap they'd gone through still made me nauseous, no matter how many times I tried to wrap my head around it. Maybe I was biased: to hell with biases. I wasn't going to let the senseless string of misery after misery continue any longer. And I made this my mission—as a constant reminder of how much I owed them—to stop, once and for all, the opening of any new wounds. They deserved to heal.

You could say that the way I conducted myself back in 2020 was the opposite of how I was now trying to act; devoid of hunches or emotional rushes in the middle. Yet I didn't feel like maintaining my natural 'stay-at-arms-distance' attitude with the twins. And if there was an absent feeling when thinking about the past, it was certainly happiness. Time to try something different? Maybe.

I felt Devola holding my prosthetic hand with infinite care and was surprised by the ability to feel her touch with it; yet the warmth and smoothness of her hands were impossible to mistake. She kept her eyes fixated on mine, the intoxicating green blurring my thoughts, and I soon felt like I was descending into an hypnotic state. With time gradually slowing down almost to a halt, Devola pulled my arm towards her, still surrounding the hand with her own. She took my index finger and extended it, touching her face, caressing her lips—alternating the direction while looking at me as if I was the most fascinating thing in the room. But I was completely frozen in time. Both too shocked and too bent on not doing what my ailing body was begging for: run away.

In a matter of seconds, she tugged at my arm again; this time much stronger, and brought me to the storage room mentioned before. I glimpsed at my clothes, neatly piled on one of the shelves. And for some stupid reason, I started to get dressed, while my heart raced almost audibly. Before being able to put on anything more than my pants and t-shirt, Devola took me by the armpits, sat me in a wooden chair, and smashed me against the adjacent wall. The expression in her eyes became euphoric, yet still slightly stained with melancholy. Without time to even breathe, she sat on my lap, immobilizing me by wrapping her legs around my waist. The modifications had to work or I should have already suffered several broken bones (only the chair worried me at that point). The mild sensation of humidity on my mouth revealed that Devola was slowly licking my lips with the tip of her tongue. Truth be told, I was going nuts, my heart pumping at full speed, prompting rapid and deep intakes of breath, which only encouraged my partner further, who was also audibly breathing.

_Back then, I was still incapable of believing I was desirable in any sense. Sex for its own sake was one thing; for someone to display affection towards me, and express a desire to be in my company was another. My first thought was to stop, something had to be wrong. Maybe my human condition was to blame for this, yet I didn't recall anything about androids necessarily being sexually attracted to humans. Meant to like and protect them? Sure. But not...This. I could be completely wrong, though. Also, Devola was old and advanced enough to likely hold such desires through knowledge and experimentation. What was going on? Could it be something genuine for once? Really? The doubt never left me completely, ever. And I think they knew._

She whispered into my right ear, still gasping.

"Whatever is on your mind right now, erase it. Stop placing guilt on yourself for anything good that happens to you."

"How...?"

"It only takes someone with an atoner complex to recognize another one with the mentality of a martyr."

I was apparently that transparent.

"So, th..." - I tried to articulate.

"Shut up and pay attention to the present."

Her eyes now looked like pure poison, in the best way possible. The kind of toxicity and narcosis one is tempted to just give in to. I focused on them, muting any other thoughts. Something broke inside me as this happened, running along like a pleasant electrical stream from my spine to all corners of my body. Now, instead of the frail resistance of my closed lips, I opened my mouth to reciprocate Devola's attentions, but she didn't let me even move my tongue; immediately and violently closing the gap with her own mouth and entangling our tongues. The heavy breathing resumed, mine trying to maintain the pace, with Devola still looking at me, not losing a second of my reactions.

Interrupting the chain of evermore hungry kisses, she bit my lower lip and then extended my neck by pulling my hair. She proceeded to continue the operation—myself unable to oppose in any sense (which, in any case, wasn't the point, as I was already completely gone, ecstatic in the performance of desire, affection, and violence).

With that, any normal perceptions of the place or the surrounding circumstances vanished, and after a final glance into Devola's eyes, I did as I said: I surrendered and tried to show it. I let myself guide in the mutating architecture of our entangled bodies—touching, smelling, savoring—reading every inch of her proximity, with the same devotion of a believer praying aloud in a newfound catharsis. I felt a drop of my blood, falling from the bite, impossibly hot, scorching along its path. Suddenly, I was back to only boxers; my t-shirt visible for a split second as it flung through the air. I was about to do the same when I noticed my left hand, which then forced me to observe the rest of my body. My right leg. My torso, the remaining limbs. All as scarred as could be. I felt hideous.

I articulated again in a raspy voice that sounded like a damaged record of my former one.

"Are you sure? I don't intend to diminish the value of your work, but the views here are hardly pleasant."

There, another reassuring smile I didn't deserve. Her hands caressing me in random directions, playfully.

"In the same way you don't care that we're androids, I couldn't care less about the patchwork of a body that we, I made. Never forget that you are in part, my creation. And I like this creation. Now, switch off that processor of yours before I have to by knocking you out with a steep pipe. Got it?" 

A second and a quick lunge later, we were on the floor. Not wanting to tempt my luck or fate with the potential pipe, I applied my wits to undoing Devola's belt, which, to my dismay, tore in two pieces like paper, taking some cloth with it. Crap. Forgot about my increasing strength. Luckily there was no retaliation, and my hands were grabbed and then used to dismantle the rest of her attire in a matter of seconds. I barely had time to see any underwear or even blush, with my boxers also vanishing like my former clothes. For once, what lost me in thought was contemplating the milky skin which covered her body, unarguably feminine; voluptuous, yet toned at the same time, some muscle lines slightly visible. A body so close that it burned to the touch.

"What about some work on your part for a change of routine?" - A smirk followed Devola's face, so close I couldn't even nod.

"Aye, ma'am." 

"Ah, finally." -No sense of shame nor guilt broke the perfect playfulness, free of worries.

Another pull to my hair brought me between her open legs, so I did the only sane thing: gladly applied myself to the job. My head pinned by those glorious thighs, I used my tongue to explore in circles, each one smaller than the next. The increasing pressure around my head was enough to know I was doing well until I reached the exact point I was looking for. For some minutes (I assumed; time wasn't really my main concern), I only heard the mounting and—let's be honest—satisfying moans of my partner, while also noticing that, well, at least her model didn't lack the ability to get wet to the point of getting drops on my face. I continued to gently use my finger to make slow and steady movements inside and out, while teasing the small pink bump with my lips. Without warning, the volume abruptly increased, and a hand on my scalp ensured I wasn't going anywhere, until the crescendo of sounds became a scream that made me think the whole camp just got a sonorous update of our location. I felt muscles contracting, hard as steel, only to start slightly relaxing around me, still twitching.

Some unforeseen moments after, I noticed the floor on my back again. Devola still looked high from the orgasm, eyes absent. This apparently didn't pose any problem to sit on me, grab my dick with surgical precision and relocate it between her legs, barely touching the now obvious labia, to ensure no issues in accuracy. The only hint I got of the action to come was a small chuckle. Slowly and gently, but clearly intending to do it in a single go, she slid down the length of my shaft. The contact with the glans alone already gave me goosebumps, and I'd have sworn I had smoke coming out of my ears as she kept descending, as smooth as could be. Then Devola started to move her hips to accommodate both of us once I had fully penetrated her. With all the care I could muster, my hands traced lines, circles, ravenous glyphs of lust along her back, fondled her breasts, and grabbed her butt as if my life depended on it. Stimulated by the former (I hope), Devola accelerated to an almost demonic speed; somehow going up, while also moving back and forth. Not intending to play the sex hero, I limited myself to grabbing her hips firmly and trying to follow her movements. The world transformed into a bubble that only contained the two of us. A small ember at first, the heat and subsequent fire burned within me until I simply couldn't hold anymore. I felt as if, more than cum, my damn soul was gonna exit through my dick; going on and on, twitching, erupting once more every time I thought I was done, until it finally stopped, leaving the rest of my body trembling. 

I saw that we had left quite a mess of fluids; noticeable in a significant amount of slippery stains. Stricken by post-sex sleepiness, I doze off a bit away from the assortment of bodily juices; only able to see a blinding whiteness and to feel Devola falling to my side as I drifted into a deep slumber. She was naked, but still as hot to the touch as before. I took an old pillow, and Devola locked me in place with one of her twisted leg techniques, letting her head rest on my chest. Crimson hair covered my sight, while the scent of an unidentified flower enveloped my sense of smell. I couldn't help but enjoy the moment.

I woke up on the floor, naked and with Devola still holding onto me as if I might escape through the window at the first opportunity (wasn't gonna happen). At least she kept me warm from the relatively cold tile floor. I heard the apartment's door being opened and closed again, followed by soft steps. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I should have known.

"Got rid of our friend, Sis, but we should relocate Sior somewhere else now that he has been seen."

The only answer was a snore coming from Devola, somehow able to nap on the floor, covering herself with just my trenchcoat (how did she manage to control my clothes like this...?)

"Sis?"

The room's door opened. I was still immobile. I looked up to see Popola with perhaps the scariest poker face I had ever seen. Both of us remained motionless in silence, as if we were just staring at a picture of each other. I already considered myself to be future cyborg ground meat; yet Popola erupted in silent laughter instead, as if the scene was the punchline of some joke only she knew.

Once she regained her composure, Popola gestured for me to remain silent. She approached her sister, crouched down beside her and then poked her cheek with a fingertip several times. Like a spell, Devola mumbled something I couldn't identify and rolled to a side; still holding onto my coat, but releasing me in the process. 

"Don't ask, but for some reason it works. Believe me, you were going to be stuck there for at least a couple hours."

I collected my clothes (sans coat, obviously) and followed Popola to the bedroom where we had slept before, which also seemed to function as the living room. I noticed some shelves with books on them for the first time. Popola handed me a metal cylinder, filled with my nutrient cookies. It was more or less lunch time, my stomach agreed with the timing. Yet...

"I honestly thought you were gonna kill me when you appeared. Well, to be honest, I'm either paranoid, or both of you have been giving me confusing signs recently."

Popola was surprisingly calm, and even amused, as if I had just made a very naive comment.

"Sior, my sister and I have been together for nearly ten thousand years, and as you know, we didn't spend that time safely living somewhere nice and cozy. After such a long span of time, you stop caring about many things; first of all, what the rest of the world expects from you or what is acceptable inside your home." 

"I think I have a vague idea of where you're headed, but I need something a bit more specific. I don't want to enter your lives like an asshole and dismantle what you have built. I am the newcomer here, the stranger, if you wish."

"I mean that even if my sister was the only one interested in you, it would still be okay. Neither of us would be afraid about its effect on our own relationship; we trust each other too much for that. Besides, we are also strangers wherever we go... In one way or another, we've always been alone, isolated. Not unlike how you feel now, your whole world taken away. Ours has been gone for a long time, and it was very close to yours. With time, you will realize how similar we are."

Not the answer I expected. Still, I could certainly relate to what Popola said. Even if I didn't grieve over it, everything was a reminder of all the memories I couldn't recover; a whole life erased.

"My sister is the one who behaves in a way that is probably more familiar to you when someone is infatuated, even if she has seldom had the opportunity for it. She is more prone to need sexual relationships and sudden displays of affection. You could say she is quite passionate and rarely gets to show this side of her to anyone. I am maybe more lukewarm, subtler; call it as you wish. But that doesn't mean I don't like you or don't hold feelings. Devola and I express our affection and care in different ways. And yes, before you get worried again, we both like you—otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. In short, you must know that it's either both of us or none; anything or anyone intending to separate us would just be too painful. The need for each other's company goes to the very core of our programming. We both know and understand this is all very sudden, and perhaps even a bit reckless. It's also true that humans seldom have more than one lover at the same time. Normally, I would have tried to take things at a slower pace, but reality ensues; you could be taken from us at any moment, and life here can be surprisingly short when you can't just backup into another body. And for this short time, we have been feeling... good. Happy. Relieved of many things that are usually a constant source of grief. We talked and agreed that, for whatever reason, we didn't want to separate from you. Besides, most of the time, we will ask for your attention individually. Most times." - A smirk appeared on her now rascal-looking face. She was also perfect. Visual heroine.

"I suppose by 'being taken,' you're referring to whatever plans the Resistance or YoRHa may have for me."

"Exactly. So, in short, we both felt comfortable and attracted to someone; something we thought we had lost our capacity for. We decided to test our luck almost immediately, no time to waste. If you become involved in the conflict, you could be away for weeks or months. If you come back at all. Death is swift and brutal outside. Both of us want to see you return to this base and look into the radiant determination you hold in your eyes, even if on the surface they seem to have already been defeated by life." 

As unusual as it might seem, there was a logic and sense to their position, I had to concede.

"All that remains is to discover what our luck has been. We can give you as much time as you need, or you can just split, if you prefer. You wouldn't have to see us any longer than necessary. I can promise that if you reciprocate, and don't happen to be different from what you seem, we will be with you forever; almost unconditionally, which goes for the three of us."

Emotions had never been my strong point. But it wasn't the moment to intellectualize things. I knew I felt happier from the moment I met them. And thinking about the twins instantly gave me warm fuzzies. This meant: I either suffered some sort of brain damage, or I had developed a genuine romantic interest in them, despite the short time we'd known each other. My brain shrugged, so I spoke as I felt at the moment. What felt right and without restriction. Something different, I guess. 

"I'm as confused as can be, that I will admit. But so far, I'd like nothing more than to stay with both of you. In my era, as you've mentioned, having such a relationship with two people—even more so when those people are siblings—would be considered very unorthodox, distasteful. But in layman's terms, fuck what people thought back then; their taboos can go gather dust and rot. This will take me awhile to process, though. I didn't exactly expect to start dating someone right now. You both need to get to know me better. I could end up being a disappointment, as you've also noted."

I saw that I'd still left her with some doubt. Not something wise to leave unresolved.

"To be clear, yes; I want to be with both of you in whatever capacity will best increase the others' happiness. I'm not going to think much of the future, let's just see how things progress. Consider that your duo has now grown into a trinity. I might be premature, but I feel how I feel. And for once, it isn't complicated. My only fear is not being good enough."

Her smile, once again, dissipated a good part of my uneasiness.

"There's no way that will happen. Remember, we were made to oversee humans; and you might negate it like a mantra, yet your problem likely is being able to love too much for your own good, to the point of neglecting yourself. Things between us will be far easier than you think, even if we are to be a trinity, to use your own words. I really hope and believe we'll be alright once we're accustomed to the dynamic that emerges. You try to stay alive and keep being with us the way you are. And we'll make it possible for you to have a reason to come back."

I slowly nodded for the duration my confidence allowed me to still believe Popola's last statement.

After some time of comfortable silence, she performed a quick review of the joints and examined the state of my spine, then finished by checking my eyesight; culminating in a long peck, which made her close her eyes. She separated herself slowly from me to walk back and forth in the room. Following a few "hmms" and "ahas," a thumbs up confirmed that all was fine. 

"Today we have to check how the neuroweave has adapted. By now, you should notice a substantial increase in stamina and raw strength. The recovery of your reflexes will be a bit slower, however. Before returning, I asked Anemone for permission to use one of their training fields with actual weaponry, which she agreed to. Then, once we have the weapons, we'll find a place of your own. Something tells me that living with us would be too much for you right now, which is perfectly understandable. Just remember you're welcome at any time." 

Suddenly I was really happy again; quite obviously so.

"What did you expect, silly? To go traveling around punching machines? We have to assess what you know and test which weapons are the most adequate to defend yourself. You don't have a Pod either, which means you'll at least need some kind of firearm. We have a rough idea based on your physique, together with the neurological data gathered during your coma, but that's barely a starting point."

Popola brought me beyond the restored building we were in, and led me into a kind of garage with a closed metal gate. She used a keypad to input a code and a smaller door opened to the right of the bigger gate. Inside, an intense white light revealed a breathtaking sight: a whole arsenal of melee weapons and a wide variety of firearms. The sheer number of potential choices was overwhelming; each weapon seeming to call out to me in the hope of gaining my favor. Popola, sensing my overexcitement and the resulting inability to focus on one weapon in particular, put her arm around my back, placing a hand on my left shoulder. 

"Don't get too excited, we have some time to look and perform a few preliminary tests. We have a list, jointly compiled by some Resistance veterans and YoRHa's equivalent. They all agree that, given your inability to link with a Pod, you should at least have a side firearm and a main one, preferably with heavy solid cartridges. Let me see..."

Popola consulted the list and entered the shelf maze, emerging half a dozen times, carrying a holstered handgun every time. They were all huge and heavy-looking, but I supposed that shouldn't pose a problem, given my still increasing strength. One in particular caught my eye. The holster covered a round silhouette which, as I hoped, contained a big revolver with a six shot drum. It looked worn, but really well maintained; someone had taken the time to clean and preserve it with immense care. Hammer and trigger were perfectly adjusted, and every other piece moved like silk and felt like a safe closing tightly when putting them back. The size of the chambers made it clear that a human would have little practical use for it; in this case, I imagined machines needed more than a .38 special to be taken down.

"Oh, that one is Anemone's personal recommendation. She used it during the days of the second Pearl Harbor descent. The list says that it's old, but perfectly functional. As a side note, she says you won't regret it having only six cartridges once you see the punch it packs. I'll take note of the ammo it uses and bring some with us once we're finished here."

"Oh, she already has me. The gun, I mean. I love revolvers and this one is asking to be adopted."

Popola nodded.

"Okay then, put on the holster and let's look around for the next one."

I adjusted the straps to my right thigh. As expected, the gun couldn't be lighter than four kilograms, yet I didn't even notice the extra weight as soon as I got used to its placement.

After half an hour, we left the armory with a small cart, filled with ammo boxes and half a dozen firearms I had chosen to try: the revolver, a semi-automatic shotgun, a heavy DMR/Assault rifle, two identical SMGs, and the jewel on the crown: a bulky, but perfectly functional rail-gun. I was expected to undergo training with each of them, and should the opportunity arise, take the most adequate ones with me to any area outside the base. When I realized, the melee weapons were already packed in a sturdy bundle held by popola; I had to smile again.

Popola couldn't resist from teasing me.

"I don't know why you look so happy; either because you've realized you're in love, or because of the guns."

With a grin, I replied:

"My heart is big enough for both," while looking alternatively at her and the pile of weapons. She exploded into silly giggles. And for once, I couldn't help but laugh along with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If someone is willing, I'd be grateful for any feedback regarding the whole MC/Twins relationship development.  
> From any general opinion to particularly how believable the smut and other affection gestures are. Anything is appreciated!
> 
> I wouldn't read the three member relationship as a trio; with more or less success I tried to remark that the twins are so united that they may as well be a single person in practical terms.  
>   
> A light hearted chapter? For the characters may be the first time they risk their trust in a long, long time. I reveal that this new bond will be important and long-lasting, unlike many others to come.  
>   
> 02/02/2021
> 
> -Chapter 5 will deal with Sior's search for a house, training, some nightmare related content and hopefully, actual fighting. 
> 
> A very rough stimate would be this chapter completing the first third of Act I (of three). The general storyline for the rest is a scheme and notes, but big plot points and most minor ones are done, with only development as narration left. 
> 
> Short and silly interactions between MC and the twins are too fun to write, they are here to stay.  
>   
> Thanks to everyone for taking your time and reading.


	5. Si vis Pacem... - (The Bond of Blood)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace slowly rots away, no matter how hard we may hold onto it.  
> We won't have the opportunity to be weak. The time to pay in blood is at hand.  
> Now, let's go and prepare. Soon, this new sacrifice will be the only shield for all we cherish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, another excuse. This text has been ready for almost two weeks. By the time I intended to review, I fell into something I should have seen coming: I've relapsed and I am going through an accute crisis of my chronical depression. I must ackowledge my SO, who has reviewed the whole thing with me and pointed mistakes my unfocused mind cannot grasp as of now. This does not mean I will take an hiatus. I intent to keep at the very least this painfully slow pace, whatever it takes. The lenght and events included have also been modified to be able to properly polish the text. I thank all those who still have the patience to still read me.
> 
> PS: Probably I will have to put it in one of the former chapters; the neuroweave its the prosthetic spine, which also acts as main controller of the rest of modifications.

Halfway back to her apartment, Popola stopped suddenly, mumbling to herself, as if the bundle of swords was just a few newspapers.

"Something wrong?" I tried to remain neutral, instead of worrying for once.

She came out of her thoughts and nodded towards me. "I just remembered that we have to relocate your quarters, for caution. You've already been spotted at our place, so sadly, that's not an option."

"Well, from what I've seen, there are plenty of unused places with functional doors. I don't really need much. A mattress, some spare clothes, and a place to store them. A shower would be awesome, but I'm not gonna be picky. As for the rest, I guess I can figure out how to make a chemical toilet; I should be able to manage anything else that comes up. As a precaution, I can stay somewhere far from your house—maybe in the comms building, or a storage unit." Popola didn't seem very enthusiastic about the idea.

"It should still be in the same building. If anything happens to you, time is essential in minimizing risks; another episode of Machina Syndrome could kill you, if left unattended for too long. And neither me, nor my sister are willing to cross half the base just to see you. Not at all."

"What about the room where YoRHa set up the clinic when I arrived? It's empty now, decently clean, and just below you two. They also left some lab equipment behind, which I could find a use for." Now she nodded with her head slightly tilted, which I interpreted as a sign of tentative approval. 

We entered the building, arsenal in tow and, to my surprise, I was able to set the lock to 'in use,' with my genome serving as a key. To my dismay, however, I realized this meant I already had an ID: "C0." If YoRHa is fast at something, it's classifying everything.

"That's an official unit tag. The letter is the type, which I imagine stands for "Cyborg." The number is the core personality; since yours isn't from their database, it would explain the zero. The letter being before the number is used for prototypes. At this point, there isn't much we can do about it—with a registry tag, they'll find you one way or another. In any case, maintaining a low-profile won't hurt," Popola explained.

Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. My DNA is already in the YoRHa database, which means there's a mandatory draft on the horizon for me. First plan: a monument to failure.

My teeth were clenching tightly at the thought and all that it entailed, but I had to set these frustrations aside, at least temporarily. I needed to focus on the more immediate issue of housing. After all, I'd rather sleep in a pile of rubble than be forced to report to that orbital station of fun and giggles, the Bunker. Fortunately, the clinic was as I remembered; dustier perhaps, but in good condition. The three beds were still there, along with a couple of chairs, and even a desk stationed in the furthest corner. The remaining lab equipment wasn't connected to a power source, but was in the same place where I underwent my treatment, aside from the absence of the life-support tank. A universal synthesizer and a standard network terminal caught my eye; those could be very handy. 

Suddenly, the weight on my back increased almost to the limit I could cyborgly support, and my eyes went dark. I panicked for a second, but soon recognized the touch of the hands.

"Devola, I don't want to be rude, but I'm holding a bundle of operative firearms. I really don't want to injure either of you by accident."

Her expression changed, as if her features were asking for forgiveness, which held at most some parts per million of guilt. I carefully placed the bundle on the desk, and as soon as the guns made contact with the synthetic-wood surface, she jumped on my back again, peppering my head with an odd mix of kisses and cat-like headbutts. I tried to stroke her hair, but she reacted by resting her chin on top of my head.

Popola had settled back into her usual poker face. "Hi, sis, I see you finally woke up. We took care of the weapon's list and agreed that this would be a good place for Sior to stay." Devola scanned the room from her elevated position. "Well, it still smells like a chemical plant, but I can't say it's a bad choice. The furniture is a big plus." 

Since I didn't like to waste time on making decisions which were already obvious to me, I settled the issue: "So, we all agree for me to move here, then?" Devola smiled, and Popola brightened her face slightly as I continued: "It's not a particularly orthodox place, it doesn't look like anyone has been here for days, and it's right below your own house. Just half a minute away. Could use some tidying up though."

Before anyone could say anything further, Devola performed an impressive athletic feat by jumping from my back to the ground—spinning in the air and landing firmly on her feet—and then started rearranging items. Meanwhile, Popola approached me.  
"Remember to always keep the door locked, whether you're inside or not. I'd also like to keep the window blocked as it is; it should still provide enough light. In any case, you can come upstairs whenever you want. The fact that we spend time together is impossible to hide now, so there's no sense in pretending otherwise."  
  
"No problem, I'll be careful. Shall we help Devola and then do some training?" Popola nodded again, but this time, she actually smiled fully, before giving me a far less chaste kiss than the first one we shared while her sister was distracted.

"I see you, sister. Don't pretend to be so ethereal and naive when you try to eat his face every time you think I'm not paying attention." Popola puffed her cheeks with a riposte already primed on her lips: "I'm not the one who left the closet like there had been a storm inside."

"Alright, let's get to it then; both of you are charming in your own way. There's no need to make any comparison because you're both different, and I like you just the same." I didn't expect my words to have much of an effect, much less to stop the argument (?). Yet nothing exploded, not even a mild discussion followed: two almost synchronized sighs and it was over. Bomb defused, I hoped. Unless that was a particularly twisted game on their part... Perfectly could be.

There wasn't really much to do. One chair ended up being paired with the desk, and the other between beds, of which we joined two and left the other separated. I plugged-in the computer terminal adjacent to the desk, while the universal builder was relegated to a corner. Clothing went into a metal cabinet which presumably contained medical material.

Devola briefly retreated to her apartment to retrieve a bag full of clothes, which contained a mixture of those similar to my own, in addition to an assortment of YoRHa attire, as well as a spare pair of boots and my trenchcoat.

"Maybe I should clean this one before..." The coat smelled of whichever flower she had in her hair and the scent of crazed cyborg-android sex, to put it shortly.

"It smells like you, there's no need." Exchanging mutual smiles and seemingly relieved to leave that behind, she also informed me that there were common showers behind the building.

"There are several towels in the bag. As for washing your clothes, you'll find some laundry modules located beside the showers."

"Gotcha. Then I should head out to train. I want to take advantage of what remains of the morning before lunch. After that, I'll take a decent nap, non-negotiable. Consider yourselves welcome here 24/7." I attached the revolver with its holster and took the DMR, unloaded. Devola collected a couple of ammo boxes, while Popola selected three or so swords from the bundle. I locked the door outside, and we departed.

As expected, the twins received the usual looks of unwarranted disdain from the rest of the inhabitants, including some faces of disgust after witnessing their comfortable attitude towards me. I mirrored their expressions of disapproval, and even asked a Resistance technician if one of us had something notable on our faces; all in a perfectly polite and gelid tone, of course. His morale quickly crumbled into a stuttering nonsense of apologies, excuses, or who knows what. I didn't feel any remorse; if anything, the altercation put me in the right frame of mind for a fight. Good thing we were already nearing the training courtyard. 

Before entering, however, I was given a minor verbal lashing by the twins. "We're used to that sort of behavior around camp, don't start making enemies already, Sior," Devola told me, a bit concerned. But I couldn't just ignore it: "I can't stand that kind of herd fucktard mentality where you're despised for no reason, since they don't know shit. You two have endured enough of that crap for far too long; I'd rather they target their vitriol at me." She shrugged, almost in resignation, as if a part of her still felt deserving of their scorn. Fucking programming... 

"My sister already told you while I was asleep. You can't just let things be, can you? Always seeking something to die for. Look, we know it bothers you—and believe it or not, we actually find that somewhat heartwarming—but you shouldn't take unnecessary risks, or Popola and I will end up constantly worrying about you. Even more than we already do. Missing the other if something happens goes both ways. And certainly don't die for us. You should take what you made us promise into account. We will live, as we've done for longer than anyone else around here; but you definitely won't if you keep getting into problems before we've even safely made it outside camp."

I tried to relax my posture, as I processed what she was saying. She was right, after all; I acted like a moron, and no one was in need of a knight in implanted armor for help.

"Okay. It's not fair for either of you to suffer because of my stupid behavior, even if I think I'm helping. I'll think twice next time. Better thrice."  
Both nodded and smiled. Wow, I had just been reasonable for once.

The courtyard was really just a glorified concrete field with a few crates to use as support and a table. I removed the revolver from its holster, pointed it down, and checked if it was unloaded. The drum was pristine and spun on the ejection rod as smoothly as one could ask. The size of the chamber was what unsettled me. I hope I had way more poise than before, or the gun was bound to fly out of my hands with the first shot. Coincidentally, Popola presented a metal box containing smaller cardboard boxes with cartridges. The packaging read "12.7 x 40mm FMJ." The thing was a fucking beast. In human warfare, it would've been an absurd overkill of firepower. Machines, on the other hand, were very likely much more resilient. Truth was, the cartridges didn't feel as heavy as expected, nor did the revolver once loaded. To be honest, I realized it felt almost like a toy. What level of strength did I have? There was only one way to find out.

I cocked the hammer, removed the safety, and aligned the iron sights, with a machine carcass attached to a pole some 30 meters in the distance serving as the target. My index finger found the trigger and once enough pressure had be applied, I fired. The noise was atrocious, but otherwise, I only felt a slight bump in my hands. Way less recoil than anything I could've shot before. The giant bullet went directly to my target, leaving behind a hole the size of a fist in its wake. Not half bad. 

"I think I'm going to keep this one as a sidearm. Feels reliable enough to prevent anything from ever standing again." I resumed shooting until I emptied the drum, in single action. To my surprise, drums were disposable and reloading was a matter of simply inserting a new one. Another round, this time in double action, not allowing more than a second between shots. The result wasn't perfect, but the twelve bullets landed very close to each other. I didn't need any more convincing to keep the weapon. I holstered it with a fresh drum across my chest and gave the twins a thumbs-up. Not a semi-auto kind of guy. And with that, the first day of training went on for several hours, until I deemed myself satisfied with the introductory session of both weapons.

I attained a decent level of accuracy and operated each weapon rather well—from assembly, shooting, reloading, and whatnot—though I still needed a few more notches to claim mastery of them. As suspected, I certainly possessed some familiarity and knowledge of weapons. The DMR also felt very natural in my arms; I had little trouble landing clean hits up to 200 meters away (the cartridge was unknown to me, something derived from the old 7.62x51 NATO). Devola approached me with two training swords in tow (two straight long-swords with a single blunt edge), accompanied by a devious smile. 

"How about I kick your ass and we call it a day, hmm?"

"A beating a day..."

The sword was clearly made for a hand; an android hand, that is. Which meant I had to consciously avoid the urge to use both. Devola and I circled slowly around each other. She kept the blade downward, taunting me to attack, while creating fake openings. I stood in high-guard observing her feet, along with the subtle movement of her hands. At one point, she took a split second longer to sidestep than the previous times. I slashed downward, feinting, and changed the trajectory to her chest at the last moment. She reacted well and successfully parried the thrust, forcing me to play defensively with a series of simple, but harsh blows, until I was able to block one of them by attacking her sword. This not only stopped her, but caused the weapon to vibrate from the impact and Devola lost her focus for a second. I lunged, feinting again—once again towards the blade. Her sword became airborne and eventually fell to the floor some meters away. Devola retaliated with a gut-punch, and then high-kicked my sword, producing a similar result as her own.

From this point on, the fight degenerated; less worried about technique, we fought hand-to-hand in a brutal manner. She was faster than me, but I was stronger than her. In order to block a single blow, her entire body would tremble against the impact, as her face displayed signs of struggle. I, on the other hand, had trouble keeping her barrage of kicks, punches, and other such intricacies beyond my level at bay. All of my moments were dedicated towards ending the fight as soon as I could actually connect one of them; more time implied more maneuvers to either evade or block. In the end, unable to maintain a decent offensive among the maelstrom of punches and kicks, she defeated me in what seemed like less than tenth a second. A lateral kick I thought I had blocked, changed its angle mid-air, making contact with my upper jaw, instead of the left forearm. I fell to the ground, adrenaline vanishing, like another discarded sword. I made a gesture to confirm the K.O. and looked up at Devola. We were both covered in bruises and minor cuts, but my face was definitely in worse shape. It was deeply wounded and bled profusely from the kick's point of impact. Devola helped me to my feet, and we held each other steady while heading towards Popola, who immediately started taking supplies out of a satchel. 

"Impressive fight, both of you. But Sior, try to avoid any further head trauma. I don't feel like spoon-feeding you in your forties."

"If that happens, please kill me. Shoot me twice, just in case."

"Is there anything that doesn't provide some excuse for you to die?"

"Drugs, reading, and being with you two."

Devola intervened: "We really do have our work cut out with you. Like finding your own reason to live, for instance."

(There was a sincerity in her voice that made my cuts and bruises sting even sharper for some seconds. As if her words were alcohol and my aimlessness in life was the wound. But can they all heal in time?)

Snarky exchanges aside, Popola quickly cleaned the gash on my face and then applied some sort of gel to it. The red flow rapidly diminished, until disappearing completely within the span of a few seconds. But whatever the gel was composed of made my skin feel like it was on fire. I winced in response; it was almost worse than the kick itself, as if it had been followed up with a pillow of nails straight to the face. Thankfully, the intensity of the pain was soothed by the sight of two sets of green orbs swelling with compassion.

The day was sunny, yet cold, with a mild breeze that felt refreshing against my post-combat skin. We moved to a nearby tree and took refuge under the shade. The three of us sat shoulder-to-shoulder against the base of the tree. I was clearly drained and needed to refuel, which Popola seemed to notice, since she almost immediately handed me a one-liter metal bottle of water, along with the already familiar container of my cookies. The gesture was so automatic that I wondered if my growling stomach had set off an unconscious alarm in her head. In any case, after I was taken care of, Popola extracted three flasks that fit perfectly into a single pocket. Devola took one, but said nothing. Popola offered me one, which I placed inside an inner pocket. After unscrewing the lid, she took a quick swig. Her face shifted in response from an expression of distress, before a look of satisfaction washed over her and stayed. Curious...

"Don't tell me it's moonshine?"

"What else? You might've noticed wheat isn't exactly a common resource, so drinks are distilled from whatever materials are available. Usually from different kinds of berries."

"Sounds better than traditional moonshine. Don't think I've forgotten about my debt, though. I know that nothing you've given me can be free to obtain, and I have no currency whatsoever." Devola interjected the conversation with a tone typically employed when explaining something obvious.

"Don't be silly. Anemone might send us on the worst errands, but at least they pay well. Besides, once YoRHa puts you to work, you can return the favor, since you'll have a salary then. Though we'd much rather see you return alive than as a credit chip in a box. Plus, what kind of lovers would we be if we made you pay for everything?"

"Lovers?" Devola's cheeks became flushed with a shade of very light pink. 

"I don't know. It sounds better than saying we're a couple, since it excludes one of us. And it's better than calling us a trio, because that sounds like all we ever do together is have threesomes."

"Yeah, I get it, difficult to label. Even if I like the concept of considering us a trinity, the word itself is a bit too verbose to use as a default. I suppose that despite the interpretations, taken at face-value, "lovers" says what's in the box."

Popola, outside of her metaphorical box, as per usual, suggested: "Some things don't need a name or a label to be understood. Make of it what you want through actions, not a word."

Her words resonated with me. Even Devola remained silent. That moonshine had to be a miracle. I retrieved the flask from my pocket, and once opened, I raised it to my nose. Hmm, blueberries and gasoline, not a bad combination. Maybe a sip would help to prevent me from constantly getting lost in the labyrinth of my mind, but I was already dozing off, so no need for help apparently. I considered the possibility of leaving, allowing the twins to have a moment to themselves.

"Wanna have some twin time? I can go leave the heavy gear at my den, then hit the showers."

"We sleep way less than you, no need to leave. But I think sis had something she wanted to do on her own, so let's do as you said. I'll go with you," Popola purred. Devola nodded her head in agreement. She and I stood, while Popola remained curled up on the ground—either suddenly asleep or conveniently pretending.

Devola translated: "That means 'I want to be carried there, do it.'"

"I take it it's the kind of request that isn't polite to ignore."

"Sior, look at her; she's curled up and has no intention to move on her own. Don't tell me I have to spell it out for you."

"Aye, ma'am."

Devola giggled, the pink hue returning to color her cheeks and confessed: "I seriously love it when you say that and just follow our commands." My obedience was rewarded with a suggestive wink and a motivating slap on the ass.

So, what did I do? What any young cyborg with an absurd amount of strength comparative to his size does when one of his two SOs decides that it's playtime. This doesn't mean I wasn't having fun myself; just that Popola weighed roughly 165kg, despite looking like a girl of healthy weight in her early twenties. Plus all the hardware Devola had left. So, I somehow managed to strap a rifle, four swords, and an oversized handgun to myself, in a way which left my hands free to carry Popola. In that moment, I discovered that my need to sweat had almost completely vanished.

It wasn't easy, but I eventually arrived at the old clinic. Devola had already come and gone, leaving behind some boxes. With all of the delicacy I could possible muster, I placed Popola down on the separated bed. If she was asleep, it made more sense, and if she wasn't, well, I could be silly, too.

I dedicated some time to properly ordering all the gear, taking a mental note that I needed to get cleaning supplies for the weapons ASAP. When I turned around, I saw that the bed I had dropped Popola in was empty and pristine, as if had never been occupied. The joined beds, in contrast, had mutated into a bump of blankets. Among them, I could see two green dots fixed on my position, half-hidden between the folds. I could already hear Devola mentally teasing me and mocking my naivety. Rightly so.

I quickly changed into my napping attire, folding each piece of clothing as I removed them, until I was once again only wearing boxers. Though there were a pair of lighter pants within reach that I decided to put on. There was something about their smell, coupled with an almost unnatural smoothness, that made them seem distinctly of YoRHa origin. Pretending to ignore the two green points following me as I moved, I entered the blanket fortress through the only available opening: a tunnel in the area nearest to the pillow.

Popola wasted no time and pounced on me like a predator before I could explore the habitat, but I soon learned she was wearing only underwear. Things obviously got steamy for a bit; in this case, it was more of a game than anything else. Some teasing here and careless touching there, though nothing escalated further, which was perfectly fine in my book. After our playtime concluded, we held one another, with my head resting on her chest. We spoke in whispers of trivial things, interspersed with anecdotes from her past. Experiences long buried by time and dust, perhaps, but an understandable residue of bitterness remained. By the time silence fell, we were a humanoid braid, with me still listening to her heartbeat. We were comfortable together, and I wanted to believe that I understood her a bit better after this. Awhile later, Popola had to leave to perform maintenance on the actual hospital. I gave her some privacy while getting dressed, then nibbled on her ear in the same way she did when first assembling my prosthetics. She didn't say anything, but turned away with a feline smile. I stood for a moment, watching her leave, while breathing in the surrounding air—now perfumed by her scent—until my rational brain regained enough control and warned me to stop behaving like a teenager.

Door locked, I realized it was the first occasion I had some spare time alone. I didn't really feel like napping, since the time shared with Popola had relaxed me enough to already feel refreshed. Putting on a ragged white shirt, I decided to explore some of the cabinets and drawers that had piqued my interest before. Besides, rationality restored, at the very least, it wouldn't hurt to look for any bugs or monitoring devices that might've been planted. Despite my sentiments sometimes getting the best of me, I've never forgotten where I am, nor what my presence here entails.

Supposedly, I should be able to use the HUD provided by the neuroweave to switch between different modes of vision—something which would be invaluable in order to adequately register the place. Truth is, I still struggled to use the HUD in general. The passive augmented reality aspects were easy enough, but other functions felt like having to learn magic, unless I resorted to using verbal commands. The goal was to be able to operate the HUD at first through active mental orders, until eventually replying on thoughts alone. A good minute of mental quarreling ensued, as I attempted to make my eyes identify anything with a magnetic field, marking it in a gradient of color. I managed to filter out the obvious objects, such as the terminal, the assembler, and myself. It wasn't long before my suspicions were proved to be justified. Hardly a surprise, though, given the circumstances. In the end, I found half-a-dozen button-sized devices, each of which equipped with a tiny microphone and a lens. Smashing them was the easiest means of disposal, but I also thought of disabling them to keep the devices as potential pieces of evidence. All I needed was a small EMP, and they'd be dead as stones. I knew my knuckles were outfitted with some kind of auxiliary weapon precisely based on EM discharges, but again, I had no idea how to activate it. For simplicity, the command process couldn't differ much from the others. I made several attempts—mentally, audibly, and very audibly—but the closest I came to the desired result was a small bolt of lightning flowing from my hand and striking one of the walls, leaving behind a tiny black mark.

The rest of the day wasn't very productive. I was frustrated with my lack of control over my own body, and intrusive thoughts regarding my overall appearance were a constant source of torment. I didn't have a mirror, but I had seen my reflection while at Devola and Popola's apartment once. My hair had greyed significantly, along with the rest of my facial hair. I could feel the hard surface of my reinforced skull and skeleton in several places; a metallic, yet mesh-like touch that felt entirely alien. I had already seen the rest in detail. Small metallic bumps along the length of my spine protruded from my skin. My remaining limbs were the same as before, though they had also lost most of their natural color. Just like the first time, it came out of nowhere. Tremors in my legs, pain arriving less than a second later—this time, traveling upward from my hips, until I felt like I was being burned alive. Either that, or I had been dropped into a vat of Popola's mysterious gel. Attempts to scream were stifled by my throat, which was now also suffering from the effects of the syndrome. So I stood, gasping in vain, wondering why I hadn't fallen unconscious. The severity of the pain didn't diminish even slightly and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breath. My HUD was being bombarded by a constant influx of warnings about failing vitals, cortisol levels, and similar such alarms. I heard an explosion in the distance, followed by the sound of firearms.

Absolutely fantastic timing.

Blinded by pain, I could not see anything, but I felt my body being held by the armpits, my feet brushing against the ground. I was suddenly dropped, a gesture that even done as gently as possible caused another burning knife to carve my flesh in the chest. Finally, whoever had moved me, left something cold and heavy in my hand. The last thing I could register was the sting of a needle on my spine, very near the C7 link.

"Terminus asset secured. Rebooting back to default ego after reaching safe distance".

I knew that voice. I had heard it before, in a dark room filled with blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28/02/2021
> 
> -Chapter 6: almost done and ready for review. Not much more to add. It will be the first chapter with actual fighting; in which the Resistance is seen to be able to fight and once again Sior demonstrates that he cannot think straight regarding two redhead androids.


End file.
